


With a Bang

by Ailelie



Series: The Unspeakables [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Male Friendship, POV Multiple, The Avengers at Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:01:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1984-1985. It is the Avengers' third year at Hogwarts. When secrets and misunderstandings abound, new friendships form while others fray. This is a year that starts and ends with a bang.</p><p>Darcy gets frustrated by History of Magic; Steve starts a special project for Muggle Studies; Pepper receives an unexpected invitation; Bruce deals with Christmas; Natasha recruits Tony; Jane gets fed up; and Tony makes a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from issue #104, "With a Bang--And a Whimper!". 
> 
> Year three will be posted in segments over the course of the week. On Friday or Saturday, I'll upload in full to ff.n.
> 
> Thanks to Llwyden, Stormwind13, and spoke for the betas. And Cinaed for being a patient and awesome alpha reader.
> 
> Also! Trying something new. I will never hold chapters hostage for reviews, but I currently have about 20 reviews spread between here and ff.n. When that number hits 50, I'll post an extra chapter featuring an Avengers character not yet shown (e.g., (at this point) Coulson, Hill, Fury, Thor, or Loki). It could this fic or three fics from now. Just a head's up--50 reviews and I'm celebrating.

Darcy knew history. She was the daughter of a high school history teacher and a professional genealogist. She had grown up listening to debates over dinner and sample lectures in lieu of bedtime stories. History should  _never_ , in her opinion, be boring. Uninteresting, maybe--the history of the world was vast and it was hard to care about all of it--but boring? Never.  
  
So it was not surprising that, of all her classes, she found History of Magic the most frustrating.   
  
Jane was not at all sympathetic. "If it really bothers you so much, then look up the information for yourself."  
  
Ravenclaws.  
  
No, while the looking it up herself idea did actually have merit (the best stories are often the ones people think aren't appropriate for kids), Darcy hated that the other people in her class would still think that history was boring. Her parents had awesome jobs and she didn't want anyone to pity them more than they already did for being Squibs.  
  
So, after a month of putting up with the most ridiculous teaching ever, Darcy Lewis raised her hand.  
  
Professor Binns bleached white in shock. "Miss Louis?" The majority of the class turned her way. She took a deep breath.  
  
"What about the dragons, sir?"  
  
Charlie Weasley two rows up from her straightened in his chair.   
  
"Dragons?" Professor Binns asked.  
  
"Wasn't this about the time that goblins started using dragons?" She was only half sure of her answer. Jane might love the library, but Darcy had left after finding a couple books that seemed promising. The accounts in the books weren't much better than Binns, which just showed how desperately the Wizarding World needed better historians, or at least ones who could teach and write well, but one had mentioned dragons.  
  
Professor Binns coughed. "Yes, well, it is recorded that the second battle in the third Goblin War did involve dragons, but that--" Charlie's hand was in the air in an instant. "Mr. Woolsey?"  
  
"What kind of dragons?"  
  
"Many historians are now in agreement that they were a type of Ridgeback."  
  
"How did they get the dragons?" Tonks, one of Darcy's house mates, asked without waiting to be called on. "I thought they were protected."   
  
Professor Binns blinked several times at the class, apparently amazed how many were actually paying attention. "Dragons came to Goblin possession via a rather interesting deal with the Trolls of Norway."  
  
"Aren't trolls all stupid?" some Gryffindor across the room asked.  
  
"Norwegian Trolls are more complicated than their more well-known counterparts. Some posit that they are more closely related to the Dwarfen race, though very little is known for certain as they are a secretive people and their homes are hidden deep within mountains. We only know of the deal between them and the goblins thanks to an impartial scribe who was brought in to manage the affair. Though the records only mention serpents, we now know that 'troll-snakes' refers to dragons."  
  
Darcy raised her hand again, but spoke without waiting. "What was the deal?" she asked, genuinely interested.   
  
The rest of the class period passed in that manner--whenever Binns started droning, someone would ask a question. As long as he was answering a question, he wasn't half as dull.   
  
"That," Tonks said, slinging her arm over Darcy's shoulders after class, "was brilliant. Think we should do that every class?"  
  
"Definitely," Darcy said, grinning. "Do you think he's right? That the trolls seriously traded away a  _dragon_  for a three-day concert?"  
  
Tonks laughed. "Who knew goblins were such talented musicians?"  
  
"Do you think that's why Flitwick does the frog choir? Latent goblin genes?"  
  
"Genes?" Charlie Weasley asked, joining the girls.  
  
Tonks waved dismissively. "Muggle thing."  
  
"No," Darcy countered, pulling away from Tonks. " _Human_  thing. Just because the Muggles got to it first doesn't mean it isn't important."  
  
Tonks just rolled her eyes. "Wotcher, Weasley. Going to join Lewis here and me in our mission to make History a bit less snooze-worthy?"  
  
"The questions thing?"  
  
"Yeah," Darcy said. "We're going to pile him up with questions so he doesn't get a chance to lecture."  
  
Charlie shrugged. "Sure. I'll see if I can talk any of the other Gryffindors around. Some might not be happy about losing nap time, though."  
  
"Tell'm to stuff themselves," Tonks said. "We're starting a revolution here."  
  
Darcy laughed. "We need t-shirts."  
  
"A flag!"  
  
"Buttons?" Charlie added.  
  
Darcy and Tonks grinned at each other. "Buttons," Darcy repeated. "I think we could start a revolution with buttons."  
  
"This is going to be amazing," Tonks asserted, once again throwing an arm around Darcy. She looped Charlie with her other. "We'll be the trio who changed Hogwarts."  
  
Darcy laughed. "All we need's a scribe," she said. "You like to write, Charlie?"  
  
"Are all Hufflepuffs this weird?" He ducked out of Tonks' grasp. They stopped where the hall diverged, their class down one branch, his down another.  
  
"Of course," Darcy said. "House secret though, so don't tell anyone. Don't want anyone getting jealous at how awesome we are." She waved at him over her shoulder as Tonks dragged her down toward Charms. Charlie just shook his head at them and headed down the other branch.  
  
"Think we scared him off?" Tonks asked as they found their seats in the Charms classroom.  
  
"Nah," Darcy said. "I rode the train up with him. Judging by the stories he shared about his family, I bet he's been homesick for a bit of weird."  
  
"Well, good thing he's got us then, isn't it?" Tonks asked, as if they'd been friends with Charlie for the past month, rather than just passing acquaintances.  
  
"Indeed," Darcy said, and she mentally added Charlie to her small but growing circle of friends. She couldn't wait to write home to her parents about her day. The question thing had been her dad's idea, and she bet he'd be pleased to learn how it'd turned out.


	2. Steve

"Mr. Rogers, a moment." Professor Quirrell stopped Steve after class.

"What do you need, Professor?" Steve asked, shifting the weight of his pack. He knew he hadn't been paying full attention that day and felt a bit guilty over it, but he already knew how Muggles made breakfast.

"Why did you sign up for Muggle Studies?"

Steve shrugged. "It's your class. Besides, I thought it'd be interesting to see what wizards thought about Muggles. Sorry about today."

Professor Quirrell smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Rogers, and it is fine. Your disengagement merely supports my thought that that this class is too easy for you." 

"I don't want to quit." Steve like Professor Quirrell, and class wasn't always boring. He'd enjoyed when the professor had brought in photographs of breakfasts from all over England and the world. It was weird some of the things people would eat.

"I wasn't going to suggest that." The professor tapped his lips thoughtfully. "You drew the holiday cards last year, didn't you?"

Steve nodded. A lot of the first years in his house had wanted to exchange cards with their friends. When one student had seen his sketchbook, she'd asked him to draw a snowflake on her card for her. After that, he'd been doing sketches almost non-stop in the evenings until the holidays started.

"Perhaps you could do a special project for me instead, then." Professor Quirrell walked back to his desk and pulled a comic book from one of his drawers. "You've read this, I assume?" He held up a copy of _Warrior_.

"Not that issue, but yeah."

Professor Quirrell smiled and flipped through the comic. "Popular media, like this, reveals more about a culture than any textbook could. To really understand people, you have to go among them, see the things they see, do the things they do. Comics like this show what aspire to and recoil from."

Steve nodded again, uncertain where the professor was leading.

"I would like for you to make me a comic, Mr. Rogers. You can work with someone else if that'd make you more comfortable." Professor Quirrell handed him the issue of _Warrior._ "Pick some aspect of the Wizarding world that has surprised you. Explore the misconceptions Muggleborns have of wizards and that wizards have of Muggleborns. Instead of listening to me talk about electricity and breakfast cereals, I want you drawing. Shall we say four full pages a month? I'll keep you supplied in Muggle paper."

"Wow, Professor. That sounds great, but, er, are you sure it is academic enough?"

Professor Quirrell laughed. "If it makes you feel better, I will expect a paragraph per page explaining the source of the misconception with citations. At the end of each term, I will make copies of your comic for your classmates to share, and you will give a short presentation on one of the misconceptions you explored. Your final grade will be based on the comics, short paragraphs, and presentations. Acceptable?"

"That sounds perfect, Professor. Thank you, really."

That night, in the common room, Steve wanted to get a start on his comic, but he had no idea what to write. He thought about doing something based on what they were learning in Care of Magical Creatures, but he hadn't got much further than that.

"I should have signed up for Muggle Studies," Clint said once Steve had explained his assignment.

"I don't think pure bloods get the same special treatment," Bill commented, bouncing a wadded ball of parchment off of Clint's head. "What are you going to draw?"

Steve flipped through his bestiary for Care of Magical Creatures. "I don't know yet, but I heard all kinds of stories about elves and dragons and stuff growing up, and a lot of it isn't true at all."

"Dragons?" Bill's younger brother, Charlie half-jumped, half-fell over the back of the couch, landing beside Steve.

Bill groaned. "Please don't get him started. Go back to your friends, Charlie." He picked up his wad of parchment and launched it at Charlie. Charlie didn't even look as he caught the ball and threw it back.

"Shut it, Bill. Did you know that trolls bartered a dragon in exchange for music?"

"What?" Bill asked. "Where did you hear that?"

"History, of course," Charlie said. "Binns has some great stories."

"Binns? The droning ghost who doesn't know how to quit?" Clint asked.

While they continued to bicker, Steve flipped in his bestiary to the entries on dragons. Drawing them would probably be a lot of fun, lots of dynamic lines. Plus, there were lots of myths and fairy tales about them. "Where do dragons live?" he asked.

Charlie cut off mid-sentence, and turned back to Steve. "On reserves, mostly. Dragon keepers watch over them and make sure that Muggles don't discover them."

A dragon reserve, Steve thought, he could work with that. "Are there any reserves near Muggles?" he asked.

Charlie leaned back against the couch. "Most aren't, but I think the one in Ireland is. Why?"

"I bet the dragon keepers have to talk a lot with Muggles, then," Steve said. "It'd be easy for there to be misunderstandings and stuff. Like about dragons, electricity, the telly, fairies—" he trailed off in thought.

Charlie grinned. "You're going to write a comic about dragon keepers?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe. Wish I could just draw though." He pulled a roll of parchment from his bag and started copying one of the dragon pictures from his book.

Charlie looked over his shoulder. "Not that one," he said. "Not for Ireland." He flipped back a page in Steve's book. "There, that's a Green. That's what they'd have."

"Thanks," Steve said. He moved his roll of parchment and started sketching the Green instead. Then, remembering Professor Quirrell's suggestion about working with a partner, he asked, "I don't suppose you like to write, do you?"

"He writes," Bill answered. "Our younger brothers always beg him to tell them bedtime stories."

Charlie's face pinked. "Yeah," he said. "I write. Why?"

"Well," Steve said. "Professor Quirrell said I could get a partner. You interested?"

Charlie's grin widened. "Definitely."

Steve returned the grin and started explaining everything the project involved. By the end of the night, they had an idea for a trio of main characters: two dragon keepers and a Muggle reporter. After Steve said he wanted to name the reporter "James" after his best friend, Charlie said they should make the one of the dragon keepers a girl then.

"That way the girls will read the comic, too," he said. "Plus, I bet we'll come up with even more misunderstandings if one of them is a girl."

Steve agreed and, after asking for name ideas from around the common room, they decided on Maeve and Finn. This was, Steve thought as he started sketching out character ideas, going to be the best project ever.


	3. Pepper

Pepper Potts had never liked how Hogwarts let all the owls swirl around in the mornings delivering mail. Even the most careful and well-trained of owl would drop feathers. Some of the younger and more excitable owls dropped far worse. Her owl waited for her in the Owlery, just as the owls at home had waited in the hutch her father had built for them. The walk up to the Owlery each morning helped wake her and gave her a few quiet moments before the madness of the day could begin. So, she was understandably surprised when a massive black owl swooped down and landed between a bowl of croissants and her breakfast plate.

"Secret admirer?" Natasha asked.

Pepper accepted the rolled letter from the owl and skimmed over its contents. She shook her head. "The Malfoys want to meet me in Hogsmeade," she summarized.

"Good family," Natasha said. "How do you know them?"

"I don't," Pepper said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a self-inking quill. "Mr. Malfoy works with my aunt. Maybe it has something to do with that." She wrote out her acceptance of the invitation and bound the letter back to the owl's leg. He pushed off the table with a great beat of his wings and soared upward through the false sky.

"I guess you'll find out," Natasha said.

"I suppose."

In the weeks leading up to the first Hogsmeade visit, Pepper contacted her aunt and asked about her current dealings with Lucius Malfoy. Then she ordered back issues of the _Prophet_ and carefully read over them each evening after finishing her homework. Some nights Natasha would join her on her bed and circle all of the stories she thought were interesting, whether they were relevant or not.

"Love potion gone wrong," Natasha said, shifting the paper so Pepper could see. "A man was trying to make his sister-in-law fall in love with him, but instead made himself fall for his owl." The picture with the article showed a man with a large butterfly net chasing after a small brown owl.

"Poor owl," Pepper said.

Natasha laughed and turned to the next page in the issue. Pepper looked up to see her frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"Another victim of the Memory Thief turned up."

"Who was it this time?" Pepper asked.

"Mirabel Ells," Natasha said. "Wasn't she Head Girl our first year? She had that lip, right?"

Pepper nodded, taking the article from Natasha. "I wonder why the Memory Thief targeted her. There doesn't seem to be any pattern at all to his attacks."

"Do the Malfoys have any ties to the Aurors?" Natasha asked. "Maybe you can ask them."

"No ties," Pepper said. "According to my aunt, there is still a bit of bad blood between them from the war."

Natasha made a face. "Makes sense. I remember them coming around accusing my parents too," she said. "I had to testify even."

"Oh?"

"A Deatheater tried to say that my father was with him on my birthday. I had to go and tell the Wizengamot that they'd been home with me all day." Natasha shrugged, but Pepper could see she was still tense. "People like to believe the worst of my family."

"They're all idiots," Pepper said. She reached over and squeezed Natasha's arm lightly. Natasha's lips flickered in a smile and she took back the newspaper. Pepper watched her for a moment before returning to her own reading. Something was bothering Natasha, she was certain. She just wasn't sure how to ask her friend what it was.

When the Hogsmeade weekend arrived, Pepper felt she was as prepared as she possibly could be. "You'll be fine," Natasha assured her.

"I know," Pepper said. "That does not make me any less nervous."

"Go on," Natasha said. "I'll buy you a Butterbeer when you're done."

"Thanks," Pepper said. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked upstairs to one of the private rooms at the Three Broomsticks. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were awaiting her arrival at a small, ornate table. "Good afternoon," Pepper said, pausing at the threshold.

Narcissa Malfoy, a beautiful woman with pale blond hair, smiled at her. "Please come in, Miss Potts. We were just pouring our tea."

Pepper took the third place at the table and folded her hands in her lap. For the first fifteen minutes, the conversation was light and, to be honest, pointless. Pepper smiled graciously and sipped her tea. She acted as if she did not suspect a single ulterior motive for their invitation to tea and waited for them to make a move.

"Miss Potts," Narcissa said as she replaced her cup. "I have heard such good things about you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Pepper replied.

"Sixth in your class?" Narcissa asked, offering Pepper a slim sandwich.

"Fifth, actually," Pepper corrected. She accepted one of the sandwiches, but placed it uneaten on her plate.

"Your house mates seem certain that you will be named Prefect in two years."

"Most likely," Pepper agreed. Natasha had little interest in anyone outside their year, and Mimi's grades were appalling.

"You're that confident?" Lucius asked, raising one brow.

"I know my strengths, Mr. Malfoy," Pepper said.

The Malfoys exchanged a look that Pepper did not bother attempting to translate. She took a small bite of her sandwich and waited.

"You are also good with children," Narcissa said.

"Some children," Pepper said, wondering what their angle was now.

Narcissa smiled. "My husband and I are in need of a caretaker for our son for this summer."

"A caretaker?" Pepper asked, hoping she did not sound as disappointed as she felt.

"You would live with us, of course," Narcissa added. "When Draco is napping or in lessons, we hope that you will discuss Hogwarts with us. I realize Draco will not be starting at Hogwarts for several years, but a mother does worry, you know."

"Of course," Pepper said. She picked up her tea, her mind racing over everything she and Natasha had read in preparation. "The Ministry seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors is opening up next year, isn't it?"

Lucius smiled, slow and pleased. "Muriel Spelling did announce that she is stepping down."

"I know," Pepper said. "My aunt has been selected to lead the nominating committee to choose her replacement."

"Small world," Lucius murmured.

Pepper sat down her cup and folded her hands in her lap. She was certain they would start trembling at any moment. "I think my aunt would appreciate a candidate who provided students with a greater voice in the governing of Hogwarts."

"A student liaison?" Lucius asked.

"That is a very innovative thought, sir." Pepper looked up at him and forced herself not to look away. "My aunt would be interested in knowing whose idea it is, I think."

Lucius laughed. "Brava, Miss Potts. You shouldn't make promises you cannot secure, though."

Pepper shrugged and looked back down at her tea. "My aunt does wish to foster innovation, Mr. Malfoy. She even supported the British Wizarding Broadcasting Corporation. Perhaps I cannot guarantee your nomination, but I do believe that my support of you and the promise of a student liaison position would accomplish a lot more than simply accepting me into your home."

"Does that mean you wish to turn down the caretaker position?" Narcissa asked.

"No," Pepper said. "I think I could learn a lot within your home. Besides, Draco is a lovely child." She ate the last of her sandwich and excused herself from the table. "This is my first weekend in Hogsmeade," she said. "I look forward to corresponding more with each of you." She gave a shallow bow and left the upper room.

When Natasha saw her descending, she waved Madam Rosmerta for their Butterbeers. "How did it go?" Natasha asked.

"Well," Pepper said, giving her a shaky smile. "I survived."

Natasha pushed the first mug Madam Rosmerta sat on their table into Pepper's hands. "Were they worse than Stark?"

Pepper laughed. "On par, maybe," she said, and drank deeply from her mug.

 


	4. Bruce

"Why is your name on the list to stay for Christmas?" Tony demanded, planting one hand firmly down on the page Bruce had been reading.

Bruce leaned back and pushed up his glasses. A few other students were studying in the library, but none of them seem bothered by Tony's outburst. "I can't exactly go home."

"Can't exactly--I wasn't suggesting you-- _my house_ , Bruce. Remember it? Spent the whole summer there?" Tony pulled back and sat down chair beside Bruce. "I thought you liked this summer," he added far more quietly.

"Tony, Christmas is for family."

"Well," Tony said, shrugging. " _Yeah_."

Bruce blinked. As he processed Tony's words, warmth spread through him like he'd just drunk Butterbeer. He looked back down at his Potions text, trying to hide the idiotic smile he knew was stretching across his face. "I'll let Professor Flitwick know then."

"Good. _"_

Christmas at Tony's was as heartwarming and unreal as a holiday special on the telly—more Christmas on display than anything. Tony fit into his home's forced holiday cheer mostly by ignoring it. They holed up in his bedroom, re-watched tapes of old Doctor Who episodes, and traded theories on what the Sixth Doctor would be like. Tony was certain none could be worse than the Fifth Doctor; Bruce disagreed.

On the twenty-third, Tony got the bright idea that they should build a gingerbread house—from scratch. Jarvis found them sleeping in the kitchen early the next morning. Bruce had brown sugar pressed into cheek like pillow creases and molasses in his hair. Tony was stretched out along the counter top, hugging an empty bowl of half-made icing. The bowl's contents were spread out over his chest and dried white. At the other end of the counter stood three walls of iced gingerbread, each dotted with candies. Some gum drops had fallen off. Slips of paper marked them as A, B, and C. A fourth wall marked 'D' lay bare beside them. All four slabs were blackened around the edges.

"You look like a biscuit," Bruce said once Jarvis had ushered them up a back staircase to their rooms.

"Don't tell Pepper," Tony replied, yawning. "She'll start calling me that."

"No," Bruce said. "That's something _you_ would do. Pepper's cleverer than that."

"You're right. Damn Slytherins."

Bruce laughed. "Right. You, Mister Hufflepuff, hate Slytherins _so_ much."

"And for that comment," Tony replied. "I'm taking the shower first." He shoved Bruce to the side and raced down the hall to the bathroom they'd been sharing.

"You have more than one shower," Bruce called after him.

Tony leaned out of the bathroom braced against the door jamb and knob. "It's the principle of the thing," he said. Then he swung backward, slamming the door shut. Bruce rolled his eyes, retrieved a change of clothes from his bedroom, and sought out one of the other showers in the house.

Still warm from his shower, Bruce stopped by the kitchen before returning to his room upstairs. The floor and counters were clean. A pan of gingerbread—their third attempt at baking it—was cut and ready for them to work with or eat. Jarvis was finishing washing the dishes by hand. "Aren't there other people--?" Bruce started to ask.

Jarvis gave him a kind smile from over his shoulder. "On Christmas Eve? I do not mind the work."

Bruce found a towel in one of the drawers near the sink and began to dry. Jarvis didn't say anything, except to point out which cabinet contained mixing bowls and which drawer held the large wooden spoons. "We shouldn't have made such a mess," Bruce said.

Jarvis handed Bruce a still dripping cup Bruce couldn't recall having used the night before. "I have been with the Starks for many years. I am well-acquainted with Master Stark's vintage of chaos."

"Oh, right."

Jarvis smiled, pausing as he lifted another cup from the soapy water. "I am thankful, however, that this particular incident did not involve some terribly inventive use of technology and, even more importantly, that he did not engage in endeavor alone." Before Bruce could fully process his meaning, Jarvis had rinsed the cup, asking, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah." He'd never made a gingerbread house before—even if he and Tony had never actually got around to the construction phase.

"Then the mess is of no consequence." Jarvis gently took the over-damp towel from Bruce. "I can finish the drying. You should go ensure Master Stark is not causing more mayhem."

"I think the only person who can stop Tony's mayhem is Pepper," Bruce said, gathering up his things to return to his room.

Jarvis affected a sigh. "Ah, yes, the illustrious Miss Potts. I look forward to making her acquaintance."

"I think she'd like you," Bruce said. He didn't know Pepper all that well, but he did think she'd appreciate anyone else who could also keep Tony in line.

"Go on," Jarvis said, returning to the sink. "You will simply have to do your best."

"Happy Christmas," Bruce said, and he darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. Bruce still felt awkward in the room Tony had declared to be his. Though his possessions were scattered throughout, the bed was twice as large as the one he'd had at home. The window was on the wrong wall. He had a desk and two bookcases filled with science fiction novels and Potions texts. Bruce tried to tell Tony that it was too much or that his father couldn't possibly approve spending so much money on him, but Tony refused to listen. Bruce did like the room, even if it didn't feel completely like _his_ yet.

After tossing his dirty clothes into a hamper, Bruce walked down the hall to Tony's room. The door was half-open and Bruce could hear Tony's father talking. Howard Stark confused Bruce. On the one hand, he had accepted Bruce into his home without a question. On the other, Bruce could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen the man over the summer. He knew better than to eavesdrop, but instead of returning to his room, he stepped closer to the door.

"And the exams?" he heard Tony ask.

"You will take your O-Levels this summer," Mr. Stark said. "Torquay has already agreed to enroll you for the fall, providing your scores aren't abysmal. The Headmaster has agreed to start you directly on your A-Levels."

"Hogwarts?"

"You seem to have control over yourself now. No reason for you to continue wasting your time there."

Bruce's stomach tightened. He thought of the journals Tony had been reading through earlier that summer, the designs he doodled in the margins of his notes, and the comments he'd made frequently during their first year about being at Hogwarts under duress. Bruce had thought it all just a joke.

Bruce edged away from the door and returned to his own room. Tony was leaving. Tony hadn't even _tried_ to stay at Hogwarts. Bruce looked around the comfortable, yet alien room. Then, he went to his closet, pulled out a bag and began to pack. With each item he shoved into the bag, he felt a bit angrier.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Packing."

"On Christmas Eve?"

Bruce zipped up his bag. "I heard you talking with your dad."

"Torquay?" Tony asked. He leaned against the doorframe. "Did you know Yorick Wilks attended there? He published a book earlier this year on language processing that is—"

"You want to go," Bruce interrupted, flatly.

Tony looked at him, confused. "Torquay is a great school. Not quite prestigious enough for my dear father, but he's seen reason now."

Bruce breathed in and out deeply. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Since this summer," Tony replied.

"What about Hogwarts."

"Is that what this is about?" Tony asked, entering the room and sitting down at Bruce's desk. "I never fit in at Hogwarts. Not really."

Bruce clenched his sheets. "Funny," he said, forcing his voice to keep even and calm. "I thought you fit in just fine. Must've just been my imagination, all those times with you, me, and Jane."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Right," Bruce said. "I'm going then."

"What?" Tony stood up so fast the desk chair nearly toppled. "Why? We don't have to attend the same school for you to make this your home."

"Half a year, Tony. You never even gave a _hint_."

"I didn't know for sure that it'd work out until just now," Tony protested. "Where are you going?" He darted sideways to the door, grabbing onto either side of the frame.

"Remus'. Get out of my way."

Tony tilted his chin up at him. "No."

Bruce tossed his bag over Tony's shoulder, causing him to flinch. The moment was enough for Bruce to break past him. Bruce ran down the stairs, pushing past Jarvis, and out to the street. Remembering a story Jane and Darcy had shared earlier that year, he stuck out his wand and boarded the Knight Bus before Tony could burst out of his house to stop him.

Bruce gave Remus' address to the driver and then collapsed on one of the seats toward the back of the Bus. He refused to think about anything that had happened until he'd reached Remus' home.

"Bruce?" Remus asked as he answered the door.

"Mind if I stay a few days?" he asked.

"Come on in," Remus invited. "I thought you were spending the holiday with a friend." At that moment, all of the emotion Bruce had been holding back surged forward. He told Remus about how he'd thought he'd found a true friend, but how Tony had only been marking time until he could escape back into the Muggle world. Remus hugged him close and tight. "I understand," he said.

"You have a best friend lie and go behind your back, too?" Bruce asked, skeptical.

"Yes," Remus replied. "Come on." He carried Bruce's bag into a room with desk shoved in one corner, a small television in another, and a long couch with worn cushions stretched out between them. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on a sofa."

Bruce shook his head. "Anything's fine. Sorry for barging in like this."

"You're always welcome here," Remus said. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," Bruce admitted.

"Let's go out," Remus said. "The Cauldron does a decent Christmas meal. We can also pick up anything you forgot to bring with you."

Over lunch and while out buying extra food, a tooth brush, and other little things, Remus asked Bruce about his classes and his transformations. He also asked about Jane and whether or not Bruce had made any progress in toppling Darcy as her number one friend. The conversation reminded him of ones he and his mother used to have when his father was out.

The only downside to the outing occurred at Flourish and Blotts. Bruce was browsing the Potions books on the main level of the store, when he'd heard Professor Snape say his name. "I did not expect to see you in Wizarding London, Mr. Banner."

"Professor Snape," Bruce said, smiling. "I finished that book on Potions bases you recommended.

"And what did you learn from—Lupin." Professor Snape's pleasant look hardened into a glare.

"Severus," Remus greeted. He stepped forward and rested one hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Are you all right here, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced between the two men he most looked up to. "I'm fine," he said, uncertainly.

"We should get home," Remus said. "Severus, it was nice to see you."

"I fear I cannot say the same," Professor Snape replied, turning and walking away swiftly enough that his robes billowed.

"What was that?" Bruce asked.

"We were in the same year at Hogwarts," Remus said. "We…did not get along well."

Bruce looked back in the direction Professor Snape had left. "That seems a bit of an understatement."

Remus sighed. "Let's just go," he said.

The rest of the holiday passed quietly. Bruce wrote Jane, explaining why he had left Tony's home and assuring her he was safe and enjoying the holiday. Tony wrote him twice, but Bruce did not open either letter.

When Hogwarts resumed, Bruce realized all of the consequences of his holiday. He and Tony were still not speaking. They had tried, on the Express back to Hogwarts, but awkward conversation had devolved into an argument when Darcy had asked everyone what they'd got for Christmas. Bruce had to admit that he'd not received any of the gifts that had been delivered to Tony's home, and then explain why. Jane had tried to mediate, but the argument had still ended with Tony leaving the compartment.

After that, he and Tony did not talk to one another. Jane alternated between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables for breakfast, but even she spent more time with Darcy than Tony. Though Bruce's rage calmed, he was still angry enough to see little point in trying to repair a friendship that would be lost within a few months anyway.

The worst consequence, however, was the one he hadn't expected. After his first Potions class of the new term, Professor Snape asked him to stay after class.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" Bruce asked.

Professor Snape gave him a long, assessing look from behind his desk. "You are a very quick pupil with a natural aptitude for the brewing arts."

Bruce blinked, startled. Professor Snape never gave such compliments. "Er, thank you?"

"I was hoping you would want to deepen your understanding further."

"Yes, yes, please." Bruce grinned. "That would be—yes, sir, I would."

"Excellent," Snape said without inflection. "We will start with ingredient gathering and preparation techniques. Come by after dinner on Monday. I will demonstrate how best to milk a thistle."

"The full moon is on Monday," Bruce said, deflating.

"I am aware, Mr. Banner. Many ingredients are most potent when gathered or prepared in certain phases."

Bruce looked down and tightened his grip on his books. "I can't."

Professor Snape's gaze hardened. "As I thought," he said. "Get out." When Bruce didn't move, he added, " _Now_ , Mr. Banner."

Bruce jumped and hurried out the door. In his next Potions class, and every class afterward, Professor Snape did not once call on him, check his work, or otherwise acknowledge his existence in any way. Bruce wrote Remus about the situation.

Remus replied:

_While many people in our world hold onto their prejudices out of ignorance, Professor Snape does not. When we were in school, a former friend of mine told him where to find me during the full moon. Had another friend not intervened, I would have killed him. I have apologized repeatedly for that day, but sometimes damage cannot be undone. I am sorry for the pain this is causing you as well._

Bruce read the letter several times from within the safe haven of his canopied bed. He was losing everything—his mother, Tony, Potions, Professor Snape. His throat tightened with the threat of tears, and he curled into a ball around his pillow. Sleep did not come easily that night; and, when it finally arrived, it brought only nightmares.


	5. Natasha

When Natasha was four years old her parents gave her a stuffed snake that hissed when she played with it. She wore the snake around her neck for weeks until her parents hid it away. Instead of throwing a fit, she'd ordered a House Elf to find and return the snake to her.

She'd heard the story countless times. Her parents liked to share it as part of their 'natural Slytherin' litany. She still had the snake—tattered and torn, the hissing charm long worn off. She'd found it again over the holidays under her bed—along with a painting. She didn't remember receiving either one. The snake she could understand, after all, who remembered their fourth birthday? The painting, however, was newer. She knew it was a gift from Steve. His signature in the lower left corner assured her of that.

She had been trying to forget her questions from the summer. Parents were supposed to be trusted. Her life was not terrible enough to demand she escape it. Her life was not terrible at all.

But her only memories of her fourth birthday party were the ones she'd been told again and again.

And her only memories of receiving Steve's painting were a blank.

Back at Hogwarts, Natasha woke early on the first day of classes. Rather than return to sleep, she went out for a walk in the half-lit dawn. A few other students were studying before breakfast in the Great Hall, but the castle was otherwise hushed. Natasha slipped out into the courtyard where snow—pink and orange from the rising sun—dusted the bare tree branches and ground.

To her surprise, the courtyard was already occupied. Tony Stark sat slumped on one of the benches facing away from her. She had never seen him so still.

"Bad holiday?" Natasha asked, joining him on the cold bench. He looked up at her, startled. Gray sagged beneath his eyes, and Natasha wondered if he had slept at all.

Stark snorted. "Yours?"

Natasha waved a hand to say 'so-so' and then, holding onto the bench, leaned back and tipped her face up to the sky. "What do you know about pensieves?"

"Not much. Read a bit on them first year."

Natasha nodded. She could find answers on her own, but Stark knew his way around the library better than she did. And, his researching some topic in-depth would not raise questions, while her doing the same certainly would.

"What do you want, Romanov?" Stark asked. "You don't like me and Pepper isn't here."

Natasha stood, decision made, and brushed snow from her skirt. "Find out more about pensieves."

Stark held her gaze and then shrugged. "What the hell. I could use a distraction."

Natasha walked back into the warmth indoors without a backward glance. She did not speak to Stark again until after a Potions class in early February. No matter how good an influence Pepper was, she couldn't stop every disaster—especially when Stark had decided to transition from morose to manic over the break-up of the brain trust. The class had ended with an explosion of pink gas that powdered as soon as it touched anything dry. Even though the pink mess did not seem to have any other effects beyond a good and solid coating, Snape had dismissed the class early.

"Maybe I just need to study more," Stark wheedled as he followed her and Pepper out of the classroom. "What do you say? You, me, a quiet library by moonlight?"

"Not now, Tony," Pepper said, turning toward the Slytherin dorms.

"Later then?" Stark called back. Natasha shook her head and started to follow Pepper, but stopped when Stark asked, "What about you, Romanov? Dessert tonight in the library?" He wagged his eyebrows. "I'll bring the study materials, if you provide the sweets."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, but Stark's grin was unwavering. Then he winked like a five year old and turned toward the Hufflepuff dorms. Natasha frowned and chased after Pepper. Until he'd ruined it with that ostentatious wink, Stark had been almost Slytherin.

"What did Tony want?" Pepper asked once Natasha had caught up.

"Dessert."

Pepper sighed. "He's a pest."

"Your pest," Natasha teased.

Pepper groaned. "I can't do this another year," she said, gesturing to the trail of pink behind them.

"They have to put us with another House eventually," Natasha said, before giving the password to a bare space of wall.

"That's just it," Pepper said, following her in and up the stairs to their room. "I'm not sure that they do. I got a copy of the school's charter from Mr. Malfoy. It doesn't say Houses should mix evenly in classes or anything like that."

"And if we're with Hufflepuff again next year?" Natasha asked. The pink dust clung to all of her clothes as she pulled out a fresh change for after her bath.

"I don't know," Pepper said, sitting on the edge of her bed, seemingly unaware of the dust settling over her covers. "But I am tired of simply waiting for the problem to pass."

"I thought you liked Stark."

Pepper hummed. The thoughtful noise turned into a groan when she noticed the pink around her. "Just because I do not mind his company does not mean I want to spend another year as the Official Tony Wrangler in Potions." She stood up and swiped futilely at the pink on her bed. "We should get cleaned up."

Natasha tossed her a towel.

That evening, after dinner, Natasha made her way to the library, both curious and nervous about what Stark might be able to tell her. Hesitating only a moment at the door, she pushed inward to the library. Stark was waiting at one of the smaller tables by the windows. He'd used the sill as a shelf and, as she drew closer, she could see that the books were all related to pensieves or the mind in some capacity. Stark glanced up as she took the seat across from him.

"You came."

"I want answers." She tilted her head toward the row of books. "You read all of those?"

"Skimmed. Not like I had anything else to do."

"Your friends—" Natasha started, and then hesitated.

"Won't bother us," Stark finished for her. He glanced out the window. "Especially not tonight. Don't worry. I haven't said anything to anyone."

"That isn't—" Natasha stopped. Stark's issues were none of her concern. "What do you know about pensieves?" she asked instead.

"Enough," Stark answered with a glimmer of the arrogance he occasionally displayed in class. "What do you need to know?"

"What would make a memory thick and slow and—"

"—I get the picture," Stark interrupted. "The memory was altered. The magic changes the physical manifestation of the thought. Pollutes it, really."

Natasha looked out the window and processed this. The full moon hung heavy over the trees; its distorted reflection rippled over the lake. Her parents had altered her memories. "Can you fix it?" she asked. "Can a memory be changed back?"

Stark shook his head. Natasha gripped the edges of her chair until her fingers hurt. "Are you all right?" Stark asked, his brow wrinkling.

Natasha glared at him, her mind casting for any way to change the subject when she noticed a smear of pink on the edge of his collar. "You missed a spot," she said, looking pointedly at the smear.

"What?" Stark asked, raising one hand to his throat.

"Left," Natasha directed. Stark moved his hand, brushing over the pink. "There." He rubbed and then looked at his fingers.

"Stubborn menace," he said, wiping his fingers on the table. "Took forever washing it off."

"You don't say." He looked at her guiltily. "Why do it then?" she asked before he could respond. "According to Pepper, it wasn't completely a mistake."

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "I want to go out on a bang. Besides, can you imagine the practical implications of a gaseous powder as a delivery system? I'm not certain how you'd bind a potion to it yet—not really my field, you know, but—"

Natasha held up one hand. "Wait," she said, stopping him. "What do you mean 'go out on a bang'?"

Stark grinned, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "This is my last year at Hogwarts." He stood. "I should go. Birthday party in the dorms, you know how it is. Chocolate cake and, if I have my rumors right, a special performance from Wagtail and McCormack. Not really something to be missed." He turned and waved over his shoulder. "Let me know if you have any more research projects come up. Any friend of Pepper's—" he glanced back at her "—well, you know how it goes."

Natasha let him leave. She wondered if he was serious about this being his last year, and whether or not it was even possible to leave Hogwarts without being either magically of age or expelled. Pepper would probably know, but then Natasha would have to explain why she was asking. She wasn't sure of the best way to tell Pepper she didn't have to worry about Potions in the upcoming year, whether they were paired with Hufflepuff again or not.

Natasha picked up the book closest to her in the sill. The book spine read _The Encyclopedia of Mental Arts_. She opened the book to where a scrap of parchment was sticking out and read the entry on pensieves. The half-page entry did not contain anything she did not already know. Natasha flipped idly back through the book, stopping to read anything that seemed interesting. Near the start of the Os, the phrase 'mental defense' caught her eye.

She turned back to the start of the entry. If she couldn't restore the memories her parents had manipulated, maybe she could keep them from doing any further damage. Occlumency seemed to be the exact tool she required. Natasha removed the parchment scrap from the Ps and replaced it on the lengthy entry about Occlumency. She did not have all the answers yet, but she wasn't hiding from the questions any longer. And, she had a plan, almost. She was going to figure everything out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23/50 reviews. At 50, a celebratory one shot will be written and posted. Fury on the trail of the Memory Thief. Maria Hill being the best Head Girl since Lily Potter. Phil Coulson getting addicted to a comic book. Thor and Loki at Durmstrang. One of those at least. :)


	6. Jane

Jane knew her sanity was slipping when she started to seriously consider Darcy's suggestion of locking Tony and Bruce in a closet and waiting until they worked everything out. Darcy was her best friend, but Tony and Bruce could follow her intellectually in directions Darcy had no interest in going. Between the three of them, Jane was certain they could solve anything. Except now they were broken, and Jane had no clue how to make them work again.

"Maybe we could get Filch to lend us some of his chains, and we cuff them together," Darcy suggested.

Jane smiled weakly. "I think the professors might have a problem with that."

"Hmm, maybe we could bribe a professor to give them detentions together for a month. Neither's on Snape's good list anymore; maybe he'd do it."

Jane shook her head. "I don't think it's that simple."

"And I think you're overcomplicating," Darcy countered. She crossed her ankles against a tree trunk, her hair spread over the edge of their blanket and into the grass. "They just need to communicate."

A breeze blew over the lake, turning the pages of the book Jane had long since given up reading that afternoon. She closed the book and lay down beside Darcy. "And what are they going to 'communicate' that they've not already said?"

"One," Darcy said, holding one finger high above her head, "Tony needs to apologize for not saying anything sooner. Part of the reason Bruce is so angry is that he found out after the fact. Two!" She raised a second finger and waved her arm to the side so that Jane could see. "Bruce needs to apologize for not listening to Tony and then leaving him alone on Christmas."

"He wasn't alone," Jane interjected.

Darcy gave her a side-long glance. "Jane, he talks more about his butler than he does his father. That's not normal. Anyway, three! Bruce needs to explain how this whole mess makes him feel. And, four! Tony needs to explain why he wants to attend a Muggle school. And five! They actually have to listen to each other." Darcy dropped her hand back to her stomach.

"So," Jane said. "Locking them together in a closet?"

Darcy laughed. "We should probably provide scripts. I know a Gryff who could help us out."

Jane's smile faded. "Seriously, though, what am I going to do?"

"Nothing really you can do," Darcy said. "They'll come to their senses eventually."

"The term is nearly over," Jane countered. "We don't have time for 'eventually'."

"Just let them know you still care for them. That's really all you can do at this point."

"Let them know I care," Jane repeated. Her eyes widened and she sat up.

"Let me guess," Darcy said, rolling onto her side. "Idea?"

Jane grinned. "Idea," she confirmed. She shoved her books back into her bag and stood up. "You don't mind not being number one best friend, do you?”

"Just go," Darcy said. She waved her toward the castle and rolled onto her back again. "I'm going to stay out here and continue enjoying the sunlight. I'm confident enough in our friendship to relinquish my spot."

Darcy had listed all the topics Tony and Bruce needed to share with each other, but Tony and Bruce weren't the only members of their friendship. Jane had been keeping silent on the subject as well, not wanting to make the situation worse. Now, with the term finishing up, it was time to _communicate_.

Jane dragged Tony down to Bruce's room beneath Ravenclaw tower. She had already got Bruce down into the room with promises of sweets from Honeyduke's. Now she just had to hope he didn't leave as soon as she showed up with Tony.

Bruce surged to his feet as soon as she brought Tony into the room. "Sit." Jane pointed. When Tony started to protest, she swung her finger to him. "Sit," she repeated. "Now, I am going to talk to each of you and you will listen." Jane put every bit of steel and willpower she'd ever heard from her mother to use. Neither boy argued. "Good." Jane sat down with her back against the door. She looked to Tony. "So, Tony, Muggle school?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because—" Bruce started.

Jane glared at him. She did not need another fight about 'wasting time' or any other reason Bruce had concocted over the past months. Jane had sat through enough of their arguments to know when to cut them off now. "No, Bruce. I'm talking to Tony now. Tony?"

"My life after Hogwarts is going to be in the Muggle world. Every year I spend here, I fall further behind."

"You're going to leave the Wizarding World?" Jane asked.

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "I can't ignore that magic exists. I can't ignore everything it is capable of, but with the Statute in place, I can't combine anything I know. All the questions I want to ask are Muggle ones. Why should I stay?"

"That's not true," Bruce said. "Alchemy, magical portraiture, designing new charms—you have plenty of Wizarding questions."

"Bruce," Jane cut in before the conversation could heat up. "What are you doing for the summer?"

Bruce leaned back on his hands. "Not sure yet. Remus has offered up his couch, but I don't want to impose."

"You still have a room at my place," Tony said. "Though, if you prefer a sofa, I suppose I could replace your bed."

"I still have a room?" Bruce asked.

"It even has your unwrapped Christmas presents in it," Tony said. "I've tried telling—"

"Tony," Jane cut in. "Bruce. You are two of my best friends. I hate when we're not talking to each other. Tony, I wish you had said something about leaving Hogwarts sooner, and I am going to miss you incredibly, but I want you to be happy. Plus, I am not accepting any excuses about being on a Muggle campus for not writing at least twice a month. And, Bruce, if you ever need a place to stay, you only have to ask. You're one of my best friends. That's never going to change."

"Stuck forever at number two, though," Bruce said, reaching for the tired, old joke.

Jane shook her head. "I've abolished the ranking system. As far as I'm concerned, you're both tied at first with Darcy."

"Hear that?" Tony asked, glancing at Bruce. "All it took was us not speaking to each other for roughly four months."

Jane glanced between them, her breath held. Even _she_ could see the peace branch being offered.

"Now we know what to do next time we need Jane to change her mind," Bruce responded.

Jane let out her breath in a loud, happy sigh. She wasn't naïve enough to think that everything was solved between them, but at least she'd got them to listen a bit to each other. She stood up and reached for the door knob behind her. "I'll let you guys talk," she said. "You both have some catching up to do."

After closing the door, Jane traced runes into it. She did not use any special pattern, nor did she remember any proper words. She just reached back to her earliest lessons and pushed all of her hope into the tracings—Wunjo and Ehwaz—joy, harmony, and partnership. Jane rested her forehead against the door and simply _hoped_. She did not know what else she could do; she needed her friends back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26/50


	7. Tony

First years, upon entering the Hufflepuff common room for the first time, received two things: a bag of buttons and a slip of parchment. The buttons were a house currency of favors and money that operated far more on the honor system than Tony thought feasible. The parchment was for the Calendar.

The Calendar was hung on the back wall of the common room, opposite the fire place. Whoever had created the tapestry had chosen a wheel format for the calendar, rather than the typical boxes. Every student wrote their name on their slip of parchment and affixed it to the small slice of the year that was their birthday. Important holidays—many of which had been new to Tony—were tracked near the center of the calendar. At the end of each year, the seventh year students removed their parchment slips and placed them in the along the edges of the calendar with the rest of the alumni. Every day the Calendar rotated so that the current day was low and center. Every birthday was celebrated in Hufflepuff. Even the alumni received cards.

Whenever he was restless, Tony would return to his research on magical weaving and, by extension, portraiture. The field was far more complex that it seemed with a great number of the explanations boiling down to 'well, it works, doesn't it?' Tony's own birthday was only just past and so still within easy reach.

"What are you doing?" Tony jumped and turned around. Kirley McCormack was leaning back against the wall by the fireplace. "Last I checked you weren't a seventh year yet."

Tony looked down at his strip of parchment. Someone must have put a preserving charm on it since it didn't seem to have aged at all. "I'm not coming back next year," Tony said. Professor Sprout knew, but Tony hadn't wanted the rest of his house to find out. They would have thrown him a going away party.

"So?" Kirley asked. He pushed off the wall and sat down on the arm of the over-stuffed chair closest to Tony. "Look, Stark, life's full of things you can change. Personally, as soon as I get out of here, I'm chucking my last name and getting as far out of my family's shadow as possible. House, though, that's forever."

"I'm not going to be at Hogwarts," Tony said.

Kirley rolled his eyes and plucked the parchment from Tony's fingers. He stood and approached the calendar. "Which of these days is yours?"

"May 29th."

Kirley located the day and then placed Tony's name near the outer edge with the alumni. "There, that way we know just to send you a card next year and not throw a party."

"Forever, really?" Tony tried not to sound overly skeptical.

"You'll be older than Dumbledore and wee firsties will still be signing a card for you every year. M' mum still does."

"Ravenclaw doesn't have a calendar," Tony said.

"Well, that's Ravenclaw," Kirley said, walking back toward the boys' rooms. "They can be a bit dim about some things." He stopped in the round doorway and pointed toward Tony. "Get to bed soon. And don't you dare think about removing your name again."

"Practicing to be a prefect, McCormack?"

"Half hour, Stark, and then I'm hexing your bed."

"I'll be back soon. I just—" Tony stopped. He didn't know what he wanted.

Kirley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," Tony agreed. He lay down on one of the couches by the fire and wondered, not for the first time, if he was doing the right then.

As the last days of the term slipped past, Tony wandered the castle more and more. He talked with portraits, asking them how much they remembered from their lives and how much memory they built up anew. He tried mapping the castle again, but gave up before he'd finished the second floor. He stole a camera off Darcy and filled up two rolls of film of hallways, paintings, and classrooms. He wanted to remember everything.

On the last morning of the term, he found himself in the Owlery trying to determine the average load each school owl handled over the years, and whether the current number of owls was optimal. He was pondering how he could apply owls to information packets when Pepper walked in carrying a cage.

"Tony?"

In his surprise, all of his mental numbers went flying like owl feathers. "Pepper."

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Tony looked at the perches and the owls blinking back at him. "Counting? What are you doing?"

Pepper gave him a strange look. "Getting my owl," Pepper said, lifting the cage. "You're up early. Normally you're one of the last in for breakfast."

She'd noticed him. The thought warmed him. "Couldn't sleep," he said. "Thought I'd come up here to watch the sun rise, but then I got distracted."

"By counting owls." A small tawny owl flew to Pepper's wrist and she guided it into the cage.

"Essentially."

"I don't even want to know." Pepper latched the cage and walked back to the staircase. "Coming?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Might as well." After walking a flight of steps in silence, Tony asked, "So, are you going to miss me next year?"

"Why would I miss you?" Pepper asked.

"Romanov didn't tell you?" He hoped Romanov hadn't told her.

"Tell me what?" Pepper asked. She stopped and then stepped down and in front of Tony. "What should I know that I don't know?"

"I'm not coming back." Pepper's eyes narrowed, then her face tightened and she turned around, stomping down the stairs. "No. Natasha didn't tell me. Why aren't you coming back?" Then she stopped again. Tony nearly tripped over her. "You're transferring to a Muggle school."

"Yeah." He was surprised she'd made the connection so quickly. "How'd you guess?"

"You told me," she answered. "The train, first year. _Merlin_ , I'd thought you were joking. So why now?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "Daddy dearest just agreed suddenly." They finished the descent to the Great Hall with Pepper asking questions about Torquay, what he would study, and whether or not he'd ever return to the Wizarding world. When they reached the final floor, Pepper surprised him by putting down her owl and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Of course I'm going to miss you," she said. Then, pulling back, she added, "Not in Potions, though. In Potions, I might just rejoice." She grinned, her eyes were extra bright. "You'll write?"

"Jane's already threatened me if I don't," Tony assured her.

"Good. Go ahead and get breakfast," Pepper said. "I need to go put Ozzy in my room. I'll see you on the train."

"Yeah, see you there," Tony said. Jane and Bruce were waiting for him at the Hufflepuff table. Darcy, who was across from Jane, handed Tony an envelope as he sat down.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Just open it," Darcy said. "McCormack's been passing it around all week."

Tony opened the envelope. The front of the card read, "Don't forget." Tony's lips quirked in a half smile and he opened the card. The inside, in all capitals, read, "FOR LIFE." Tony laughed. All around it were signatures and notes saying he would be missed. Even Jane and Bruce had claimed a corner together and written a short message each.

"You guys do realize we're going to see each other again, right? Every holiday even," Tony joked.

"Told you he'd ruin the moment," Bruce said, leaning over to Jane. Jane flicked a piece of bread at Bruce's forehead.

"I'm going to miss you guys," Tony said, slipping the card back into the envelope.

"Likewise," Jane said. Midway through breakfast, Pepper joined them. She slid into the open seat by Tony and reached for a plate without any explanation. Tony tried to press every second of the breakfast into his memory. He didn't want to ever forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28/50
> 
> Kirley is one of the youngest students in his year. After Hogwarts, he will change his surname to 'Duke' and gain fame as the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters.
> 
> "Ozzy" is short for "Ozymandias."


End file.
